


Nervous Brass and Ice Cream

by Jasper_Ghost



Category: The Outsiders (1983), The Outsiders - S. E. Hinton
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:41:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24207628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jasper_Ghost/pseuds/Jasper_Ghost
Summary: It’s Two-Bit’s first band concert, and he’s nervous. With a smile and a trumpet, he’ll play amongst his peers despite the squeaks of other instruments.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 9





	Nervous Brass and Ice Cream

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you Teddy (@Staygold-motherfucker on Tumblr) for encouraging me to write this. I’m glad you like my headcanon about Two-Bit playing trumpet in middle school.  
> (I really miss band, and I hope it shows in the fic.)

A cacophony of musical instruments rang in his ears, bouncing off the walls of the band room, different notes, different accents, no doubt rattling the windows in their frames. People were all chattering happily, excitement in their voices. He was talking as well, his expression beaming, a smile stretching ear to ear. Yet he was as excited as he was nervous. He was trembling, hands sweating against the cool brass of his trumpet. It was his first-ever concert; that was a lie, there were multiple in elementary school, but those were forced, and nobody cared for them. This was the first-ever concert he seriously practiced for. He’s playing a whole different instrument than a recorder, a different mouthpiece, different mouth placement, different sound, everything. They’ve only been playing for around two months, and some of the other trumpet players didn’t even know what they were doing.

So many things could go wrong. He kept a smile on his face, though, not wanting to show his fear. Everyone else was probably scared too.

“Two-Bit, hold my trumpet for me, I need to grab somethin’,” Gabe, a guy in his band class, said, holding out a nice, silver trumpet towards him. It was clean of all fingerprints; clearly, he’d been up for hours cleaning it so it’d look nice and function smoothly. Two-Bit’d feel bad to touch it and ruin the shiny perfection. However, Gabe was urgent, probably having forgotten a piece of sheet music or valve oil. He forced his grin a little wider and gingerly took it. “Thanks, man,” Gabe grinned back before rushing out of the room.

He hoped he would return soon. He couldn’t read the clock, so he didn’t know how many more minutes that were left before they had to warm up and tune as a group. They’ve haven’t even played together as a group, or at least, not a lot. The only time they had was earlier during school, and that was it.

Nerve-racking minutes passed, and Gabe had returned; he had to grab a piece of sheet music. Their band teacher, Mr. Andrews, would’ve blown a fuse if someone forgot their music. That happened to him a month ago: forgot his folder at home. Their teacher didn’t like him already, calling him disruptive, unorganized, and immature. He couldn’t help the fact that band was after lunch for him; that’s when he was most hyper.

“Alright, sixth graders, get in your sections!” Mr. Andrews suddenly called out over the racket of all his students playing their instruments. He repeated this twice more, then all of them finally were in their places, silent, standing stiff in their nice clothes.

“I’m very proud of today’s rehearsal, and I have high hopes for all of you tonight. I see a lot of families out there, and they’re excited to see all of you,” he had started, glazing out into the rows of children. “You’re probably excited too, judging by the noise and shouts earlier, but you all have to be mature out there and restrain from waving at them or shouting hello’s,” he stared right at Two-Bit as he said this, expecting that the kid would do such a thing.

“Everyone, we’ll play our concert B flat scale, four beats for each note, coming down after the high B flat; trumpets, you guys are starting on a C. Alright, horns up!” 

After tuning, Mr. Andrew called out one row at a time to go to their seats in the gym. Two-Bit’s heart raced as he followed behind a classmate to the gym, the tie he wore around his neck feeling all the more tight and choking. He bit down on his tongue as he stared up at the bleachers; they looked as tall as skyscrapers, looming over them, parents and siblings staring down at them. He spotted his mom and sister, both beaming down at him like the bright hanging lights of the gym. His gaze moved a little to the right and saw the Curtises; Darry looked ecstatic to see him, waving at him with a wide smile. His mother had asked Darry’s family to come along. He didn’t think they would, but he was happy to see them.

He couldn’t help but return the wave despite what his teacher had said, nearly knocking over multiple music stands from not looking where he was going. Blush rose to his cheeks, and he haphazardly fixed the stands before rushing to his spot and sitting down. 

“Good going, Keith,” the girl sitting next to him hissed to him, her blue-lidded eyes glaring at him. 

“Didn’t wanna be rude,” he whispered back, setting up his music on his stand.

She scoffed. “Mr. A. said  _ not _ to do that.”

“Hasn’t shouted at me yet, idiot.”

Before the girl snapped back at him, their teacher started announcing their concert to everyone who sat in the stand. Praises were sprinkled in, and Two-Bit wanted to laugh. He was hyping them up too much. They haven’t been playing their instruments that long. They could’ve been  _ that _ good. He sighed softly and messed with his valves, pressing them down in familiar patterns. Mr. Andrews was talking a lot, more than he ever would in class.

The girl beside him suddenly smacked at his arm, earning a glare from Two-Bit. “Get your horn up!” she whisper-yelled, squinting furiously at him. 

Two-Bit rolled his eyes and sat up straight, on the edge of his chair, just like their teacher told them to. He brought his trumpet up to his lips, hands trembling as he got his mouth ready for the first note of their first piece. The seconds ticked by slower and slower as their teacher stood on the pedestal, hands posed upwards, waiting to count them off. It felt like he was deliberately waiting there, waiting to catch him off guard. He wasn’t. Just a moment after that thought, he began batting his hands.

1… 2… 3… 4-

His gaze moved down to his stand, glued to his music and all the notes and reminders he scribbled on the sheet so he wouldn’t mess up. 

He still messed up. It made his face burn with shame, and he knew his mistake was heard. However, he kept a serious and unfazed expression, something he learned to pick up from the other times he messed up in class. He regained confidence eventually. The repetition of notes slurring and jumping helped him get back into the rhythm of the music. 

————

The other songs went as expected: not as well as the seventh or eighth graders or high school kids that came to his fifth grade class last year, but well for kids just starting out. Everyone clapped and cheered for them, proud of the children’s playing despite it not being as good as older kids.

After their last piece, they all stood up from their chairs and bowed, relief washing over everyone, wide smiles on everyone’s face, real smiles. The applause dissolved, everyone began filing out of the gym. It was over! Their first concert was finally over! Two-Bit’s heart was racing, his whole body tingling with excitement. Heck, he couldn’t wait to be dismissed from the gym. He booked it for the exit, trumpet in one hand, music stand in the other. He snaked his way through the sea of parents and other kids, and he suddenly bumped into someone. 

“Sorry!” he squeaked out, attempting the move past the person, only to get his arm grabbed by a gentle hand.

“Keith, honey. You all sounded so good,” his mother cooed over the echoey noise of the hall, causing her son to look back at her and relax. Her gray eyes were bright, full of pride for her son. She pushed back his red hair and smiled. “Let’s get your stuff, okay?”

He nodded and led his mom to the band room, and he packed up his trumpet and put away his band folder in his grade’s shelf. “Where’s Brenda and Curtises?” he asked, his mom gingerly taking his trumpet case into her hand. 

“Waiting outside. They’re all really proud,” she answered in a soft voice. She took Two-Bit’s hand into her free one, guiding him outside where the others were. Brenda immediately hopped off of the bench she was sitting on and ran to her brother, hugging him as tight as her little arms could. He returned the embrace just as tight. She murmured her simple praises into his side, her voice high-pitched and happy for her brother. She liked hearing her brother play music, always peaking in when he was practicing his pieces. Hearing the whole band together was amazing for her.

Two-Bit chuckled and thanked Brenda, squeezing her before letting go. Then, it was the Curtises turn to compliment the performance. It made his heart feel full. He didn’t think they were  _ that  _ good. 

“Alright, alright. It was just a bunch of noise and notes,” he attempted to get away from the topic of the concert.

“There were squeaks too,” Ponyboy added in a mumble, swaying idling on his feet beside his father, his gaze on the concrete. 

Two-Bit laughed, having been waiting for some kind of comment on the unexpected noises. “That was the clarinets,” he explained, remembering all the comments and useless suggestions from Mr. Andrews for how to fix the squeaks. The clarinets didn’t listen, or maybe they didn’t understand.

Ponyboy nodded, not exactly paying much attention to the redhead, merely waiting for when ice cream was going to be announced. Two-Bit’s mom had promised to buy them all some after the concert.

The chatter continued amongst the two families, mainly the adults were talking, their children fooling around on a patch of grass nearby, playing tag and messing with bugs. Eventually, Ms. Mathews glanced over at the kids in the warm sunlight of the sinking sun and sighed with a sense of closure to her conversation with Mr. and Mrs. Curtis, her shoulders dropping. “I think they’re ready for ice cream,” she decided. 

“I believe so— Darry be careful! Keith’s wearin’ nice clothes,” Mrs. Curtis suddenly hollered at her eldest son, who had just tackled Two-Bit to the dirt. Darry’s head immediately shot up, and he shouted back an apology before helping his friend up. 

The parking lot had emptied out in the time they’ve talked, the last few cars pulling out into the street. It was a good time for them to head out, so Ms. Mathews called for them. “Kids, let’s get going!”

Ponyboy’s and Brenda’s eyes lit up, excited for ice cream, and they raced for their parents, shouting their excitement for the sweet treat. Their older siblings followed them a moment later, their faces showing much less excitement, but it was still evident with the bright smiles on their faces. 

“Could I ride along with Two-Bit?” Darry spoke up softly once they reached the last two cars in the parking lot. 

“I say yes,” Two-Bit jumped in, poking his head out of the door of his mom’s car. “I believe the council should agree.”

Mr. Curtis chuckled lowly and nodded, waving his son off to go with his buddy. Darry smiled wide and rushed to sit next to Two-Bit, squishing him against him and the car seat in the back. The two then began laughing at some joke unknown to the parents outside. They didn’t question it. Kids have their own little world they live in, best not to disturb it.

“Want to go to the Dairy Queen nearby?” Mrs. Curtis suggested, knowing none of them didn’t want to go driving a long way out just for ice cream that late in the day.

“That’s perfect,” Ms. Mathews smiled. She turned towards the cars. “Kids get buckled! Keith, help your sister.”


End file.
